


Darkness Beseech Me

by LithiumLullaby



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, References to Depression, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumLullaby/pseuds/LithiumLullaby
Summary: Aziraphale suspected it was because they reminded Crowley of how his own wings once were. The Demon always found an excuse to preen and fuss over them (not that Crowley would admit it). His heart broke at the way Crowley was looking at him, observing him with intense scrutiny – no doubt seeing Aziraphale was no longer the Angel he fell in love with.Aziraphale has fallen, his wing's have turned black. He's desperate for Crowley not to find out but the Demon has other idea's.





	Darkness Beseech Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am extremely proud of this one because it was such a fight to finish. I originally couldn't get the tone I wanted to achieve so I spoke with my dear friend to hash out some idea's and opinions. When I finally got into a good flow of writing I lost 2000 words worth of work thanks to my laptop.... Nevertheless, I definitely feel I achieved what I set out to write. As always, dedicated to my lovely friend who tirelessly edits my work.

Late afternoon in St James Park was normally a busy time with tourists still milling around, enjoying the light summer nights. A few joggers wove around the dog walkers and engrossed couples. The early June heat was pleasant, and Crowley took the opportunity to enjoy the warmth as he lounged on the park bench. A group of children ran past screaming, disrupting his quiet relaxation as they fired water pistols at each other. Smirking, the Demon subtly waved his hand and changed the water to black ink.  The resulting chorus of delighted and horrified shrieks was very entertaining.

The Demon was currently waiting for a certain fussy angel. Yesterday, Aziraphale had requested they meet in the park, rather than Crowley collect him at the Bookshop with the Bentley, as usual. Nervously, Crowley bounced his sprawled leg while he watched another runner pass by. Aziraphale had not been his usual self recently -and being late was a prime example. The Angel prided himself with being prompt. He simply couldn't except being tardy and lectured Crowley on it numerous times. ' _Manners maketh man'_ and all that. Crowley tapped his fingers on the back of the bench, starting to fidget. 

The sight of white curls brought a relieved smile to Crowley’s face. The Angel was hurrying along, looking flustered, his cheeks red with the effort.

"So sorry I'm late, I had some...errands to take care of at the shop." Aziraphale offered a sheepish smile.

Crowley rolled his eyes and, out of habit, reached for Aziraphale's hand. Now they knew no one relevant was watching, the unlikely pair had come to enjoy the pass-time of holding hands in the park. They of course got a variety of looks from strangers - and whilst Crowley flourished with the attention, Aziraphale was still reserved about certain displays of public affection

  
  


However, it was still unusual that Aziraphale casually kept his hand out of reach. Crowley chalked it down to the fact their relationship was still new (six thousand years of pining not included). They'd barely got through half of the park when Aziraphale announced, with an apology, that he had to leave again. Crowley let out an annoyed groan but relented. The Angel probably had a new book he'd discovered in the restoration that he was itching to get back to.

***

A week later, Crowley stood waiting yet again. This time in Leicester Square, with theatre tickets in hand. As much as Crowley was very good as acting out the sin of sloth, he really didn't enjoy waiting. After all, patience is a virtue, and that's Angel business.  The wait only exacerbated the uncomfortable, agitated feeling he was becoming accustomed to of late . It made his skin crawl and left him feeling irritated. Crowley hadn't seen Aziraphale since the park the other week and no matter what the Demon suggested; the Angel always provided an excuse of being busy. The red-haired Demon had hoped the lure of Hamilton tickets would do the trick, and by the gleeful response he had gotten over the phone, it sounded like it worked.

  
  


Crowley's phone suddenly started to ring. Sighing, he felt the dread he wished he didn't. 

Crowley reluctantly answered the phone. "Hello Angel..." 

"Oh goodness, Crowley. I am ever so sorry; I really cannot meet you this evening." Aziraphale's voice wavered on the end of the phone.

"I guessed as much...Is someth - " Crowley couldn't finish his question as Aziraphale spoke over him.

"I really must apologise! We shall take a rain check then! Goodbye!" Click.

  
  


Standing alone in the busy square, Crowley stared at his phone in disbelief. The Angel had not only cancelled on him, but also hung up without so much as a reason why. Did Aziraphale need some distance? They had been spending a lot of time together over the last 11 years, with Armageddon looming. Normally, they would spend decades apart whilst working, running into each other on odd occasions due to 'The Arrangement'. There was even that century where Crowley fell asleep and left Aziraphale alone all that time. The Demon couldn't shake the unnerving feeling that the Angel was politely trying to tell him he was being too clingy.

Heavy drops of rain steadily started to fall, Crowley only noticing when they splattered over the tickets in his grip. Resolving himself to find out why Aziraphale was avoiding him, he crushed them in his hand, annoyed. He sauntered off towards his Bentley, causing a few demonic miracles on his way to placate his frustration

  
  


***

The next time Crowley called Aziraphale, he invited him out for dinner. He didn't take no for an answer, threatening to never talk to the Angel again should he cancel once more. Aziraphale's squeak on the other end of the line reassured Crowley that he would not.

***

The Bentley parked outside the Bookshop in Soho, Crowley drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously, waiting for Aziraphale. He still couldn't dismiss the Angel’s erratic behaviour of the last few weeks. Since they narrowly avoided the end to the world and had been effectively retired from their head offices, the pair found themselves with more freedom to explore their relationship. The lack of threat and watching eyes meant they could relinquish themselves to the unresolved tension. All the unspoken feelings, brought to light, with the chance to finally be thoroughly intimate with each other. Much to Crowley's surprise, Aziraphale was very experienced in this area. That will teach him to sleep decades away, the Demon mused

Glancing out of the car window towards the Bookshop, Crowley shuddered as he remembered  how it had looked engulfed in flames . The last week or so had been tiring, worrying about Aziraphale. With the Angel’s distance they hadn't even managed the basics of affectionate gestures. Crowley missed the Angel’s sweet lips, but he figured they took six millennia to get to this point, anyway. What was a few weeks more? He convinced himself this phase would pass, just like the time the great Library of Alexandria opened its doors. Aziraphale went missing for months, nose buried in tome upon tome.

The Angel suddenly appeared next to Crowley, derailing his sombre train of thought. The radiant smile he received gave him hope Aziraphale wouldn't run away tonight.

The Le Gavroche wasn't as exquisite as the Ritz, but Crowley had grown tired of the overly familiar décor,  and had suggested they were in dire need of a change of setting.

Aziraphale surprisingly didn't protest this time, quite excited at the promise of sampling the chef’s signature apricot and Cointreau souffle again.

The dining room wasn’t the light and airy affair they were used to.  The more intimate arrangement suited Crowley just fine as he sipped his black coffee. The low lighting highlighted the splendour of the restaurant, from the ornate red chairs to the pristine white tablecloths.  Between the main course and dessert  the red-haired Demon gazed at Aziraphale curiously over his sunglasses. The Angel had been uncharacteristically quiet over dinner. He'd started off his usual chatty self, but even the souffle had failed to keep the mood from turning sour.

"Angel, is something wrong?" Crowley enquired as Aziraphale pushed the dessert around his plate.

The tentative gesture of the Demon's hand resting on top of his own startled Aziraphale out of his brooding thoughts. He quickly retracted his hand and raised his wine glass again.

"No! Nothing's wrong, not at all. Why would you think that?" Aziraphale spoke hastily, downing the last of his chardonnay.

"You seem a little off tonight." Crowley watched Aziraphale fidget in his seat. It was as if the Angel couldn't wait to leave.

"It's just a spot of indigestion, my dear." Aziraphale reassured. Crowley raised his eyebrow unconvinced.

"Well, what are you in the mood for now? A walk in the park?" The Angel quickly changed the subject, nervous under his lover’s gaze.

"How about a drink at yours instead? Don't you still have bottles of that Moutan left from 1945?" Crowley ventured, lazily tracing his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

"Oh, I, uh. Yes, I do, but I think I'd also rather like a change of scenery from the Bookshop. How about a drink at yours?" Aziraphale suggested sheepishly.

Crowley was stunned for a moment, brows furrowed in confusion. Aziraphale rarely invited himself over, if at all. He could count on one hand how many times, in fact. The Demon considered refusing the suggestion. He could sense Aziraphale was not his usual jubilant self, but he would be a fool if he didn't take this opportunity.  It was unnerving, the way the white-haired angel wouldn’t keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. This was highly unusual behaviour from someone whom Crowley had  caught staring on several occasions before because the other just  _ 'wanted to look at him' _ .

The waiter soon collected their plates and Crowley paid and left a generous tip that Azirphale would normally offer. Alas the Angel was distracted by his thoughts once again. Swiftly, the pair left the restaurant, making their way to Crowley's Bentley. It was being clamped yet again, about to receive a hefty fine. Aziraphale would normally seek his hand at this point of the night – but yet again, like so many of their recent dates, the Angel didn't reach for him. Crowley refused to acknowledge the lonely ache in his chest.

***

An uneasy silence filled the living room of Crowley's apartment.

Aziraphale sat rigidly on Crowley's sofa. He barely took a sip of the drink cradled in his hands. The lanky Demon didn't miss how he barely kept up with the conversation, his stunning grey eyes glazed over with a swirling storm of brooding thoughts. Unusually, the Angel had declined an offer of fondant fancies. Crowley only really kept a supply of these for the rare times Aziraphale did come over, knowing the Angel had a sweet tooth (and not because he liked the pink ones himself.)

“Crowley...do you think we did the right thing, stopping Armageddon?” Aziraphale suddenly spoke. His voice was so quiet Crowley almost missed the question entirely.

“Of course it was, Angel. The world’s still here, isn’t it?” Crowley gestured around the room with his wine glass.  Still frowning, Aziraphale didn’t look convinced.

  
  


“But what if it wasn’t part of the Great Plan? What if we were meant to go to war, and we’ve made even more of a mess of it?” Nervously, the Angel rubbed his thumb over the half-full glass he was holding.

“With the world going up in flames and the end of the human race? Doesn’t seem like a very loving plan of the all-forgiving Almighty, does it?” Crowley shrugged.

“No, it’s not, is it? But She has been known to sacrifice the things She loves.” Aziraphale looked miserable.

With an exasperated sound, Crowley lifted himself from his sprawled position with some effort. He sauntered over to the Angel and sat next to him. Clearly, something was bothering the Angel, and this was his roundabout way of trying to solve the problem  without revealing it to Crowley . For someone so smart, he really was stupid.

Aziraphale offered him a small smile as he felt the designer sofa dip with his weight next to him. Gently, the snake Demon took Aziraphale’s hand. Noting his sad expression, he reached to place a reassuring hand on his lover’s thick thigh.

The innocent actions caused Aziraphale to recoil sharply. Shocked, Crowley removed his hand with a confused look. Aziraphale refused to meet the golden eyes studying him over the rim of black glasses.

"This isn’t about what Gabriel said to you, is it?" Crowley, ever lacking subtlety, blurted out.

"What? No! Don't be daft!" Aziraphale protested, draining the rest of his wine.

"Right, you clearly need something stronger before you tell me what has ruffled your feathers!" Crowley declared, annoyed. As he stood up w ith a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder, he took the glasses.

He meandered off to his kitchen in search of the single malt scotch he kept for such occasions. Crowley knew Aziraphale had insecurities with his corporal body, more so now since narrowly avoiding Armageddon a few months ago. The Archangels had not been kind to the Principality during the final hours. He loved the Angel for being a sensualist, not giving a damn for Upstairs’ misconceptions of protecting their 'celestial temples'. Aziraphale would rather enjoy the pleasure of delicate pastries and cakes filled with the finest Chantilly cream. That suited Crowley just fine - he was happy knowing Aziraphale was content.

Upon Crowley's return from the kitchen, he raised the bottle triumphantly. With a melancholic smile, Aziraphale declined the drink.

“Crowley, I can’t help but wonder if the Almighty will continue to let Adam live on Earth?” Aziraphale straightened the cuffs of his coat nervously.

"Oh, Angel, do we have to talk about this? This is the first night I've had you to myself in weeks, and this is what you want to talk about?" Crowley groaned.

“Yes! Because it’s important. God didn’t try to stop the war, so why would She let us or Adam off so easily?!” 

“Have you forgotten the whole business with the holy water and hellfire so quickly, dear?” Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Of course I haven't! I still cannot understand why Metatron and Gabriel didn’t care to stop the war - they’re supposed to stand for what’s right. So, did we really do the right thing by stopping it?” Aziraphale was starting to ramble.

“It doesn't matter if it's right or wrong, Angel - the world is still here, and we have each other. We have our side.” Crowley took a long swig straight from the scotch bottle. He wasn’t drunk enough to be dealing with philosophical debates of this magnitude.

"But it does matter! It matters because our side will eventually affect the Great Plan!" Aziraphale protested.

"You are insufferable, Angel! Do you honestly think we did the wrong thing, saving humanity?" Crowley stalked towards him. He was tired of trying to get through to him. He was tired of being avoided, of being discarded at the whims of others. He wouldn’t let Aziraphale do the same  just because he was precious to him.

"Not at all...but we..."

"Do you not want to be together anymore?" Crowley stated bluntly.

"Yes...No... I mean, that's not what we were talking about…." Aziraphale stuttered. He looked away from the demon, unable to meet his eyes again.

"Yes or no, Angel? Do you really want to go running back to Heaven so quickly after the stunt we pulled? Are you having doubts?" Crowley stopped a few steps from the Angel. He can’t stop the overwhelming feelings from crashing through him – weeks of ignoring his self-doubt, anxiety and anger every time Aziraphale ditched him.

“Do I not  _ please  _ you anymore Aziraphale?” Crowley spat  venomously .

“Crowley, please let me...” Aziraphale flinched at the words. His breathing quickening, he grabbed onto his trouser legs tightly.

“Am I not  _ good  _ enough for you, Aziraphale - would you prefer I was a holier-than-thou Archangel?!” Crowley hissed. The air around them changed - the atmosphere became dense with charged energy, just like when either of them extended great amounts of power.

"Crowley, you're not listening to me!"  Aziraphale shouted. He couldn’t stand the barrage of harsh words anymore.  The lights in Crowley’s apartment flickered dramatically as energy exploded around the flat. A few bulbs cracked, and the scotch bottle shattered in Crowley’s hand.  With a shudder, Aziraphale’s ethereal wings burst forth, uncontrolled and furious in a burst of searing light.

Only the sound of a sharp intake of air echoed in the room.  With awe, Crowley stared at Aziraphale's once gloriously white wings, now as black as midnight. The growing silence between them was tense. He watched Aziraphale close his eyes to avoid looking at him. H e only noticed then that he had scotch dripping down his arms, further staining the carpet.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley questioned; voice soft with remorse as he approached. The Angel was hunched over, face buried in his hands. Crowley could see his body was visibly shaking with the effort to stifle his sobs.

Moving to the front of the sofa swiftly, Crowley knelt before Aziraphale's quivering form. Gently, he tried to pry his hands away from his face.

"Hey...Hey, Aziraphale, love. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that..." Crowley laced their hands together, sucking in a sharp breath at Aziraphale's expression. The Angel's beautiful round cheeks were heavily tear-stained,  more silently falling still.

The usually bright grey eyes reflected such deep sorrow that Crowley felt the ache in his bones.

Aziraphale shuddered, hiccupping as he tried to collect himself.

"I... I believe I've fallen..." he breathed quietly, his wings fluttering gently.

"I'm so sorry Crowley, I think I did something very wrong." The Angel sobbed loudly. He couldn't stop tears anymore, so he let them flow freely. He tightened his hold on Crowley's hands to anchor himself,  unsure if he would flee the apartment in fear first, or Crowley would.

Crowley was quiet as he took in the display of ragged, dark feathers framing the bright celestial form. He tried to keep his breathing even, but found it difficult - the sight was shocking, but not displeasing. Letting go of one hand to curiously stroke the soft feathers closest to him, Crowley felt Aziraphale flinch and draw his wings closer towards himself.

"I... I'm sorry, I'll put them away" Aziraphale sniffed, attempting to dab at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief he produced.

"You will do no such thing, Angel." Crowley growled.

Surprised at the outburst, Aziraphale recoiled again at the sound of the word  _ ‘Angel’ _ . Surely the wings meant he's been stripped of that title. The casual attention was making him cross - it didn't feel like Crowley understood how he felt. The Demon should be disgusted by his appearance.

"Don't say that..." Crowley almost didn't hear the words, they were spoken so softly.

"Say what, Angel?" The Demon brought a hand up to thread through brilliant white curls, with every intention of soothing the distraught Angel.

"That! Don't call me an ‘Angel’, I'm not one anymore...I don't know what I am!" Aziraphale shouted. Upset, he swatted the comforting hands away, surprising Crowley. Grey eyes glared with a chaotic mixture of anger, confusion and sorrow.

An uncomfortable ache flared in Crowley's chest. He reached out towards the Angel again.

"Crowley, let go. Please...I - " Stubbornly, the Angel moved his unkempt wings  away from Crowley’s touch again. He could barely stand to see the ebony colour, let alone allow Crowley to touch him this way.

Aziraphale had always known he wasn’t the most accomplished Angel, as the Archangels never failed to remind him. However, he had always thought of himself as a good Angel - he was a being of love and compassion, after all.  He had always reassured himself that his distaste for violence and love for humanity were proof that he was still upholding God’s will and divinity. He had always assumed his love for Crowley fell under the same category. However, now, without his Angelic wings - after God had abandoned him - he didn’t know if he was still worthy enough of being loved.

The change to Aziraphale’s wings had been agonisingly slow – the complete opposite of the quick and painful manner he assumed all Demons went through. It was why his meetings with Crowley weren’t affected to start with. As the growth spread more rapidly, changing the pure white to darkest black, he couldn’t bear the thought of Crowley discovering them. With how close the had gotten, Crowley was sure to notice something –  and so, he spent more depressing days hiding away from the world in his bookshop than enjoying life with his lover.

The thought of the accumulating black moults he'd yet to deal with on his Bookshop floor made Aziraphale shudder. Ever since the black feathers flourished, he'd refused to groom the wings. The colour was too unnerving - it made him feel sick and displaced. The conflicting emotions coursing through Aziraphale whenever he so much as he glimpsed the pitch-black wings in a mirror felt like a hurricane.

The most pressing thought in his panic-stricken state was always ‘ _ what would Crowley think _ ?’ The Demon had always marvelled at Aziraphale's glorious white wings - right from that very first meeting on the wall, when he had used them to shelter the snake from the rain. Aziraphale suspected it was because they reminded Crowley of how his own wings once were. The Demon always found an excuse to preen and fuss over them (not that Crowley would admit it). His heart broke at the way Crowley was looking at him, observing him with intense scrutiny – no doubt seeing Aziraphale was no longer the Angel he fell in love with.

"You look magnificent." Crowley leant forward to kiss away the fresh tears. He continued to caress the dark plumage, marvelling at how soft they still felt - his own were a lot rougher.

"You…you like them?! But...they're..."  Aziraphale trailed off, failing to find the right words to explain his thoughts without upsetting the Demon.

"Angel, for whatever reason this has happened, I think you're still the same as you've always been. An insufferable, kind, do-gooder with an unhealthy penchant for books." Crowley declared with a smirk.

“But...how can I be good? How can you love me? This is punishment for ruining the Ineffable Plan!” Aziraphale whimpered. He tightened his grip on Crowley's hands.

"Oh Angel, falling’s not so bad, really." Crowley reassured, squeezing Aziraphale’s hands in return.  He moved to lay his head in the Angel’s lap, letting go of one hand to stroke another wayward feather into place.

“I’m really happy with my life after the Fall. I’m happier not worrying about being a perfect holy bastard and having to behave. This doesn't mean you have to go out and do dastardly things.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s clothed thigh.  As he glanced up, he can see  more tears welling at the corner of ice-coloured eyes at his confession.

“Now, darling. We have something much more important to talk about.” Crowley declared, straightening up. Aziraphale looked at him through wet eyelashes, a hint of fear flashing across his face.

“Those wings are in the absolutely worst state I’ve ever seen. It’s disgraceful.” Crowley frowned and offered his hand to the sniffling - but smiling - Angel.

***

Aziraphale was still nervous, sitting on the edge of the Crowley’s large bed. The demon had convinced him to miracle away his jackets and shirt, leaving him topless on the black silk sheets. Shivering at the cool air, he arched his wings carefully, spreading them backwards and blending into the sheets.

Crowley had joined the Angel on the bed behind him, sitting in the centre of the V the ebony feathers created.  He’d ditched his shoes and glasses before scooting close to the Angel, gently massaging his exposed shoulders. Long, dexterous fingers expertly pushed the tension out of strained muscles. Crowley had the Angel sighing and leaning back towards him in minutes.  Smiling, he placed a chaste kiss on the thick neck in front of him before dragging confident fingers from the base of the wings to as far as he could reach. The sensation sent a pleasing shiver through Aziraphale.  He couldn’t help the small moan that escaped his lips.

  
  


The black wings were truly in an awful, unkempt state, with several feathers sticking out in all directions. Crowley tutted and lost himself in the task of gently plucking and smoothing down the offending plumage. Each time he came across a stubborn one that required a rougher approach, he placed soothing, apologetic kisses against Aziraphale’s back. The Angel gasped in response, gripping the bed sheets tighter.

“Now doesn’t this feel much better? I can’t fathom why you didn’t do it yourself, Angel, they feel glorious.” Crowley muttered against his shoulder as he cleaned another row of dark feathers.

Shuddering, Aziraphale  fought off a wave of nausea at the thought. “It made me too sick to try…they don’t feel like mine anymore...” he uttered softly, hanging his head in shame.

Crowley felt a little bit guilty.  Even with Crowley admitting his love for them, Aziraphale was clearly struggling with accepting the wings. He hadn't reached that reserve of doubt the Angel harboured, it would take time for him to reconcile with his new form. Crowley quietly prayed to Heaven and Hell that the Angel would let him stay long enough to see it.

“Nonsense, they’re as every bit as beautiful as you are.” Crowley declared, pulling a stuttered gasp from the Angel as he licked along the join of wing and shoulder blade. He gave the other side the same treatment.  Sliding his mouth and hands through the Angel’s freshly cleaned feathers, the Demon revelled in the uncontrolled shivers he caused. Taking pity on his trembling lover, Crowley manoeuvred Aziraphale into laying in the middle of the bed.  On his hands and knees, the Demon towered over the pliant Angel.  “And I’ll make you see that.” he finished with a passionate kiss.

Aziraphale returned the kiss fervently, stretching his immaculate black wings to spread across the bed. He raised his arms up to wrap around Crowley’s back, but was swiftly prevented. Pinning his hands by the Angel’s head, Crowley devoured his mouth again in a desperate kiss. He had missed the warmth and the closeness with Aziraphale – the weeks of being distant were catching up with him.

The Angel moaned into the dominating kiss and tried to keep up with the talented tongue, beautiful eyes closed at the pleasurable sensations filling his body. The grooming had left him in such a relaxed state that he felt like putty in Crowley’s arms, and the kissing was reigniting his arousal.  Aziraphale almost forgot about his wings, until he fluttered them involuntarily and caught a glimpse of them when he re-opened his eyes.  Shuddering, Aziraphale broke the kiss and tried to hide his face in Crowley’s neck to avoid looking at them.

Sighing, Crowley brushed his fingers through the ebony plumage sympathetically. He ushered the Angel to lie back again and placed a chaste kiss on cherub lips. The trail of kisses moved from mouth to his neck, taking great care to lavish attention on every available part of skin at an agonising pace. Crowley paid particular consideration to creating a lovely necklace of bruises on Aziraphale’s collar bones. He knew they would fade by the end of the night, but an Angel could still appreciate the effort.

A sharp gasp reached his ears when Crowley licked a peaked nipple. With a smirk, he dodged the questing hands that stretched to grab him. Softly, Crowley placed Aziraphale’s hands back on the silken sheets, admiring the contrast between alabaster skin and black silk.

“No touching, sweetheart. Not until I say so.” The Demon ordered with a deep kiss. Aziraphale whined in response but obeyed.

The trail of worshipping kisses moved south at a faster pace, until they reached the edge of Aziraphale’s waistband. Crowley noticed the Angel’s hips shaking with need, his erection tenting the beige trousers obviously. The white-haired Angel choked on a breathless moan when the Demon breathed against his clothed erection, the heat soaking through the fabric heightening his arousal further.

“C...Crowley - please...aaah -” Aziraphale moaned, just as the Demon took pity on him and undid his belt and fly. He expected Crowley to take hold of his erection first, but he dedicated an excruciating amount of time to take his trousers off. It was maddening. Aziraphale keened in frustration once he was free, instinctively spreading his legs.

Smiling, Crowley gently stroked the exposed thighs. He adored how big and powerful they were, he always enjoyed it thoroughly when Aziraphale  wrapped them tightly around him, quaking with pleasure. However, this was about making Aziraphale know every inch of him was loved – and about the consequences of denying Crowley the pleasure of showing him that.

Aziraphale gasped when Crowley took hold of his already leaking erection, wiggling his hips enticingly. The slow worship of his body via Crowley’s mouth had made him extremely aroused. Not being able to touch was maddening.

The first sensation of Crowley’s tongue against his foreskin left Aziraphale moaning incoherently. The Demon set a punishing pace to start with, lavishing his hot erection with thorough attention from his tongue. He grabbed fistfuls of black sheets in an attempt to stop himself from reaching for Crowley’s hair. He was determined to be good for his Demon, even if he couldn’t be good enough for the Almighty.

Crowley met Aziraphale’s gaze through hooded eyes as he deepthroated his cock, humming against the heated flesh when the Angel sobbed at the sensation.  He slowed his pace, alternating between taking the short but thick appendage deep into his throat and pulling back just enough to swipe a forked tongue over the sensitive head. He kept Aziraphale’s hips pinned. It made the Angel moan louder when he couldn’t chase the heat of Crowley’s mouth.

Aziraphale’s body was a debauched, shivering mess. Crowley had been edging him for the past hour, bringing him almost to completion, agonisingly slow with his talented tongue - only to pull away at the last moment. His body trembled with tension and his voice was beginning to break from all the high-pitched moans that fell from full lips.  He stared down at the red hair bobbing over his erection through tear-stained lashes.

Feeling the sinful heat burn his nerves.  The wet swipe of a tongue across his over-sensitive head caused him to keen, fingers digging into the sheets desperately.

Aziraphale could feel the liquid heat of arousal burning hotter in his gut again, orgasm imminent.  He bit back another sob , full well knowing Crowley would pull away at the last moment.

The wicked Demon did, of course, with an obscene pop and a final kitten lick to the weeping slit. Aziraphale’s hips thrust forwards in Crowley's grip, seeking the hot furnace, back arching when he cried out in frustration. The black curtain of his wings thrashed on the bed, spreading wider as he once again lost the chase to his pleasure.

“D...dear….please...I can’t stand it anymore - ” he whimpered, itching to grab the locks of red hair and thrust into the heat of his lover’s mouth.

Crowley crawled over the Angel’s shaking form, careful not to brush his clothes against any flushed skin. He leaned down so he could lick the Angel’s ear and whisper sweet nothings.

“You’ve been so good. So very good and obedient, my Angel. Always so good to me. Shall I give you a reward?” Crowley breathed.

Aziraphale cried out at the praise. Crowley wasn’t a stranger to dirty talk in bed, but after weeks of questioning whether he was still a good Angel (or whatever he was now), it hit him harder than usual. Gasping, the Angel nodded. He didn’t trust his voice as he felt himself begin to cry for the umpteenth time that night. The overwhelming surge of emotional release catching him by surprise, he couldn’t stop himself from threading his fingers through auburn hair to drag Crowley into a sensual kiss.

The Demon smirked into the kiss as he felt the tentative touch of Aziraphale’s wings encircling them both. He reached up to cup the Angel’s red cheeks, his thumbs lovingly wiping away the tears. Wickedly, Crowley thrust his still fully-clothed hips against Aziraphale’s naked body. The response was instant - Aziraphale moaned desperately into his mouth and tried to draw the Demon even closer to get more of the delicious friction.

Crowley had done well to ignore his own throbbing heat to this point, focusing all his attention on the Angel. However, he couldn’t deny rutting against the Angel for a few moments, just to desperately to relieve himself of some tension. Judging by Aziraphale’s high-pitched whines, it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge - but Crowley wasn’t ready to finish what he started.

A feeling of loss dominated over Aziraphale’s lust when Crowley pulled away from their heated open-mouthed kiss. He watched through wet lashes as Crowley miracled away all of his clothes, lithe cock leaking and standing to attention. Another miracle had both his entrance and Crowley’s erection sufficiently lubricated. Aziraphale shuddered at the strange sensation of being prepped without fingers. It wasn’t by any means enjoyable, but Crowley knew Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to stop his impending orgasm if he let him use his fingers.

In a tumble of desperate limbs, Crowley lined himself up and pushed forwards.  Aziraphale wrapped himself entirely around the Demon, powerful legs forcing him to go faster. Crowley groaned lustfully against Aziraphale’s lips, needing no extra encouragement to start thrusting into the white-hot heat of his Angel. The feeling of the black feathers brushing against his back with crackling energy only served to spike the Demon’s arousal further.

“My Angel, my good Angel. I’ll love you always, no matter where you fall.” Crowley panted against kiss-bruised lips.

Aziraphale moaned loudly in response, a few stray tears falling from his lashes as he reached to kiss Crowley lovingly.

“D...Darling. I’ll always be good for you...” Aziraphale whispered in-between kisses.

The declaration caused Crowley to keen his appreciation and spurred him to thrust even faster, hitting Aziraphale’s prostate with acute accuracy. It didn’t take long for both of them to come and fall together, molten heat exploding from its tight coil.

Gently, Crowley removed his soft cock from Aziraphale. He took a moment to clean them both with a click of his fingers. The evidence of their love making gone, Crowley took the chance to settle in between Aziraphale’s thighs and rest on his chest. Waiting a moment for the Angel to relax his wings, Crowley threaded his fingers through the plumage soothingly.

“Angel...how do you...are you okay?” he questioned tentatively.

He received a hummed response to start with, Aziraphale feeling complacent. The Angel brought his own hand up to rest against the fingers Crowley was carding through his feathers . He gazed up at golden eyes, sniffling again.

“Thank you…” Aziraphale whispered

“What for, love?” Crowley cocked his head. He took the hand into his and laced their fingers.

“For loving me like you do, of course.”  With his other hand, Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s cheek, wings moving to cocoon them both in the safety of his ebony wings.

“Until the end of time, Angel. Until the end.” Crowley promised with a kiss.

  
  



End file.
